


Arsonists Lullaby

by discohargreeves



Category: The Umbrella Academy (Comics), The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, BAMF Klaus Hargreeves, Dark, Dark Klaus Hargreeves, Dark!Klaus, Dave is referenced, Honestly not sure what this is, I listened to arsonists lullaby, I need to chill, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Klaus Hargreeves Deserves Better, Klaus Hargreeves Has PTSD, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Klaus has telekinesis, Possession, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Songfic, and this happened, but he's dead, except not rlly random, idk - Freeform, no beta we die like ben, no real plot, not graphic, powers, sorry - Freeform, there's random splattering of song lyrics, too may italics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:08:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27031693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/discohargreeves/pseuds/discohargreeves
Summary: He was sick of being treated like he was impotent- more so a liability. He was sick of his siblings looking down on him even though he’d proven himself to them time and time again. He was sick of pain, sick ofconstant fucking pain.ORKlaus gets angry.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 163





	Arsonists Lullaby

**Author's Note:**

> hello hello hello! this is literally a plotless bamf dark Klaus fic and I'm honestly not sure if it even makes sense but enjoy lemme know what u think <3
> 
> ((if u want a part 2 I could do that?? if you'd want??? IDK lemme know lol

_when i was a child, i heard voices_

_breathe_

He can’t see anything beyond the _red, red, red_ light behind his eyelids. He can’t hear anything but the overpowering screams and voices in his head. Disconnected from actuality, he can’t feel the ground beneath his feet and his skin feels too heavy on his bones.

_breathe_

(If he were more present, he’d have noticed the reason he couldn’t feel the ground was because he was _fucking floating above it_ )

_some would sing and some would scream_

Echoes of past lives reverberate through his being like they’re settling in his soul, clawing at every part they can reach. It’s a chess match, their evil battling against what’s left of his kindness. 

Being possessed by the ghosts had never felt like this; the past few months, a few had slipped beyond his barricades and took control, but he always managed to push them out.

Now though, now he had no control.

He was _pissed off_ damnit. A part of him didn’t _want_ control. He wanted to snap, let the ghosts do whatever the _fuck_ they wanted with this body. They fed on that part, swarming him and floating in and out of his body like he owed it to them. 

He was sick of being treated like he was impotent- more so a liability. He was sick of his siblings looking down on him even though he’d proven himself to them time and time again. He was sick of pain, sick of _constant fucking pain._

_breathe_

_“Klaus, you’re the lookout.”_

_“Klaus, get sober.”_

_“Get your act together.”_

_“Scrawny little junkie”_

__

_You soon find you have few choices_

_I learned the voices died with me_

At a young age, if the ghosts got too close to him, he’d feel trapped. He’d feel like he was being _infected_ by their pains, swirling around his head like smoke. He remembers clawing at his skin for hours on end, wanting- _needing_ to tear away the way they made him feel. 

He remembers dying. 

Remembers the sudden peace. 

Remembers how quickly it was torn away.

Right now, peace seems unattainable. He almost welcomes the feeling- the feeling he’d pushed away for decades. 

He welcomes the feeling, because it was the first thing he’d really _felt_ but pain since February 23rd 1963. 

_i’d sit for hours  
staring into open flame  
something in it had power  
could barely tear my eyes away._

It _burned_ , so satisfyingly burned. The ghosts swarmed and far away- so far away, he could hear his siblings yelling. 

_calm down, Klaus._

_breathe, Klaus_

A voice- a voice so achingly reminiscent of sweltering nights in Vietnam told him to breathe. He pushed it away. 

_It burned, burned like the fiery pits of hell._

_Anger. Fury._

_Power._

Power, yes. 

Never in his life had he felt such power. His father told him he had potential to unlock and- 

_oh reggie, if only you could see your_ greatest disappointment _right now_

Things were smashing all around him. He couldn’t bring himself to wonder _why._

He was floating, now, so far away from his own body. It felt like when Ben possessed him, but so much _more._

He wondered, briefly, if the ghosts were possessing him, why weren’t they fucking doing _anything._

_(later, he realised it’s because there were so fucking many. they couldn’t take control when there were so many competing for the vessel that was Klaus Hargreeves.)_

_(he was too stubborn to acknowledge that maybe-_ maybe _he didn't want his siblings to be hurt by an army of the dead in power through his body- did he? It did satisfy him to scare them, though. Maybe now they’d stop underestimating him.)_

_don’t you ever tame your demons_

_but always keep them on a leash._

_harness your power, Number Four._

_godamnit, breathe, Klaus._

_tap into your potential._

_You have to learn to control them, Four._

_Breathe. Come on Klaus._

_Fucking shit, Klaus. Stop smashing shit!_

_Unhelpful, Luther!_

_Breathe, baby. You can do it. Just breathe. I love you. Breathe._

_Number Four._

_Klaus, my love._

_Number Four._

_Scrawny little junkie._

_Number Four_

_My love._

_I love you._

_I knew that something would always rule me_

_Don’t you ever tame your demons, but always keep them on a leash._

**Author's Note:**

> not me posting this then realising it makes little to no sense <3 anyway follow my twitter and read my other shit I promise its (mostly) more coherent than this


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